


Truth Be Told

by PumpkinspiceLou (CatyDreamDwyer)



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, M/M, Matt's his handler, Neil's in the Witness Protection Program, a bunch of soft shit happens, but Riko still pops up to be a dick, that's it that's the story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-05 09:27:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11010627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatyDreamDwyer/pseuds/PumpkinspiceLou
Summary: Foxton, Massachusetts, is a small town almost invisible on a map and the FBI's idea of the perfect location for the newest member of the Witness Protection Program: Neil Josten. But the town's residents, while friendly, also like to pry, and secrets have a bad tendency of never staying truly buried. Especially when a certain bookstore co-owner takes a keen interest in Neil.ORThe coffeeshop/bookshop AU that no one asked for!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note, there is canon-typical violence/torture in this fic!!!!!! I will put an additional warning on the chapter it occurs in when it's posted, but I want everyone to be aware of this before proceeding!!!!! If you want specifics of what happens or have any questions before reading, please feel free to [message me](http://c-e-d-dreamer.tumblr.com/ask). 
> 
> Chapters will alternate between Andrew's and Neil's POV. 
> 
> Title and lyrics for this fic come from [Truth Be Told by Tossing Copper](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ojHiE1tm9_I). 
> 
> Finally, shoutout to [Chelsea](http://irishrainbownjh.tumblr.com/) and [Kourtney](http://stylesforinfinity.tumblr.com/) for holding my hand while writing this, helping me outline, and for being awesome betas and cheerleaders! 
> 
> HAPPY READING! :)

_// If only I could do the good I want to do_  
_I’d leave this place forever_  
_And I would never turn back around just to fight this old war  
_ _‘Cause I’m broken and I’m begging for something more //_

Andrew wakes up with the sun as her delicate fingers pry through the cracks in his blinds. He blinks a few times against the onslaught before he hauls himself up and rubs his eyes, trudging into the bathroom. He got barely any sleep last night, long gone faces and voices refusing to release their haunting grip on his mind. A hot shower sparks some life back into his nerve ends, and Andrew makes his way out of the apartment and down the stairs into the bookshop below.

There’s something about the bookshop in the early hours of the morning. The peace and serenity hidden there. The way the sun’s rays bleeding in through the windows bounce off the shelves of books. The familiar crisp paper smell. The silence there is a welcome and grounding weight. And here at least Andrew feels like he can truly breathe.

Andrew makes his way to the kitchen tucked into the back of the shop. He fills the coffee pot with water and rummages around in the cabinet to nab a mug. When he pulls out the bag of coffee grounds, he frowns at the light weight of it. He opens up the bag, only to find about a handful of grounds left at the bottom. With a sigh, Andrew re-measures the water and adds the grounds. He leans back against the counter and lets his eyes fall shut again as the coffee pot gurgles beside him.

Once the coffee pot finishes, Andrew empties what little coffee was produced into his mug and heads back into the main part of the bookshop. He runs his fingers along the various book spines, different colours, fonts, and titles blaring out at him. He finds a crime novel he hasn’t read yet and slides the book off the shelf. He tucks it under his arm and carries it and his mug of coffee to one of the bay windows along the right side of the shop. He makes himself comfortable in the cushioned inset there, tucking his legs up under himself, and opens the book. The ink dances off the page as he reads, words wrapping around him in a combination of inky swirls and colorful images.

Andrew is about halfway through the fourth chapter when the creak of steps draws his attention away from the characters and plot.

“Coffee,” Nicky whispers like a prayer.

“We’re out,” Andrew says, not even bothering to look up from his page.

“What?”

“I told you we were running low; it’s not my fault you didn’t listen.”

Andrew hears the familiar thump of Nicky letting his head fall against the door jamb. He takes another sip of his coffee and turns the page, starting in on chapter five.

“Can I borrow the car to go to Starbucks?”

“No.”

“Come on,” Nicky practically whines. “It’s like ten miles away, and I’m in desperate need of caffeine.”

“Not my problem.”

Andrew pointedly ignores the long withering sigh Nicky lets out and turns his full attention back to the book poised in his lap. He wonders when the detective of the novel will realize the blatant clue he missed in the room of the crime. He’s sure that mistake will later bite the detective in the ass, and he turns the page eagerly for that to happen.

“Why don’t you just go to that new coffee shop?”

That voice does draw Andrew’s attention. Andrew hadn’t even heard Aaron come down the stairs, but when he looks up, his twin is standing there, hair and shirt still sleep rumpled. His face still has pillow creases pressed into his cheek that dance and merge with the exhaustion lines lingering around his eyes.

“What new coffee shop?” Nicky asks.

“A new one opened just down the road. Where Mack’s used to be? I saw their grand opening signs the other day when I was walking around town.”

“You mean when you were pining after Katelyn from across the road?”

If looks could kill, the glare Aaron sends Nicky for that comment would leave his cousin bleeding on the floor. Nicky is unfazed, though, his smile widening at the reaction and rise he was able to garner.

“When are you finally going to buck up the nerve to ask her out?”

“When are you finally going to shut up,” Aaron grinds out, shoving past Nicky with a hard bump to the shoulder.

“Someone’s grumpy without their morning coffee,” Nicky mutters.

“So, go get some!” Aaron calls back, the distinctive sound of the tap turning on cutting off any further discussion.

Nicky’s eyeroll is almost audible with the dramatic flair he throws in and the scoff he adds. He turns his stare towards Andrew, and the raise of his eyebrows and the way his expression twists and twitches at his lips shows his cousin is waiting for some sort of response.

Ever since Andrew and Aaron returned to town, Nicky has been desperately trying to fit their misshapen pieces together. He’s like a livewire amped up to the highest setting, always sparking and chirping on about family. From mandatory Sunday night dinners to encouraging ‘playful family teasing’ as Nicky puts it. This situation is another clear attempt at the latter, so Andrew pointedly turns his attention back to his book, ignoring the weight of his cousin’s lingering stare before it finally skitters away with a sigh.

“I’ll be right back. Open the shop while I’m gone,” Nicky calls out.

There’s no response from either twin, but it doesn’t deter the older man. The distinct echo of the bell over the door signals his departure, and the shop falls back into quiet, just the soft sizzle of food and the whisper of a spatula against a skillet wafting from the kitchen.

Despite his promise, the minutes tick by without Nicky’s return. Aaron slinks out of the kitchen with a plate poised in his palm to unlock the doors but then he vanishes back upstairs, leaving Andrew to take up post behind the counter. 

Andrew rests his cheek in his hand and taps out a nonsensical tune against the wood, bored eyes trained on the door. The sun starts to creep higher in the sky outside, the rays shifting to form slanted spotlights across the front of the shop. He’s not sure how much time has passed before a teenage girl walks into the shop. She browses up at the front of the shop, trailing her fingers along the covers of the bestsellers stacked on a table by the window.

The girl is trying to discreetly purchase _Fifty Shades of Grey_ when the bell over the door finally signals Nicky’s return. Her cheeks are a speckled mess of pink, and despite Andrew’s impassive expression as he rings up the book, her eyes keep avoiding contact. She’s so focused on the small basket of bookmarks that she nearly jumps out of her skin when Andrew tells her the total before fumbling for money in her bag.

“Great choice,” Nicky comments, sidling up behind the counter and setting the coffee cups in his hands aside.

The girl’s eyes widen and the blush marring her cheeks darkens even more. Her lips part for a moment before she seems to decide against attempting to stammer out a response. As soon as Andrew hands over her change and book, she flees from the shop.

“If she was that embarrassed, she should’ve just ordered online,” Nicky says, taking a sip from his coffee cup. 

“Finally.” Both sets of eyes snap towards the stairs where Aaron has re-emerged to claim his coffee. “Did you decide to walk to the Starbucks after all?”

“No, I went to the new place, Dancing Bean. Honestly, I wish I had gone there sooner. The barista that works there is so attractive. His name is Neil.”

Aaron is just barely able to hide his scoff in the lid of his coffee, but his eyeroll is unmissable. It does little to deter his cousin though.

“Plus, he’s new in town, so I of course offered to show him around.”

“No one wants to hear about your attempted escapades,” Aaron quips.

“Don’t pull that face at me as if you and Katelyn aren’t just as sickening to witness.”

“You know, maybe I’ll have to tell Erik about this Neil you’ve taken a sudden interest in.”

“Oh, trust me, I already plan to tell Erik all about him. I’m quite confident Neil will make The List.”

That seems to be the last straw for the blond. Aaron is unable to suppress the sound that escapes his lips this time or the scowl that curls across his face. Without offering a response, he takes his coffee and retreats outside the shop and into the summer heat.

“He really was dreamy,” Nicky says, turning back to Andrew.

Andrew takes that as his cue to return to his spot by the window. He nabs his book from where he abandoned it on the cushion and settles in, picking up right where he left off. The shift of the afternoon sun leaves it bleeding in through the bay window, and her rays dig their claws in, leaving warmed scars across his skin.

~ * * * ~

The next day brings summer storms. They paint the sky full of inky clouds, fractured psychedelic purple with each burst of lightning. The crash of thunder shakes the very bones of the shop and waves of rain splash against the windows in a steady stream. Despite the cacophony of sounds swirling outside, there’s a calm quiet inside. Rain always leaves the town huddling in their homes, so with not a single soul in the shop, there’s just the whisper from between the pages of the books. A call and a lure to find comfort in their inky embrace.

Nicky decides to use the lack of customers to catch up on the business of the shop, his laptop perched on the counter as he pours through the spreadsheets and invoices scattered around him. The patter of the keys isn’t entirely drowned out by the storm but it is subdued, providing more to the soundtrack that envelops Andrew as he once again sits by the window. The blond watches as droplets chase each other down the pane, the streets awash with swelling waves of greys that the wind twists into swirls.

The flash of something outside other than rain catches Andrew’s eye. He has to scoot closer to the glass of the window and squint to make it out through the sheets of water still cascading down from the murky skies. It takes a few blinks for his mind to register, but there’s no mistaking what he’s seeing: some idiot has decided to go for a run during a storm.

Each crackle of lightning illuminates the skin of the runner’s legs as they shift with each wide stride. Neon orange sneakers adorn their feet, and an equally bright windbreaker clings to the top half of their body. The runner has the hood of said windbreaker pulled up, blocking any view of their face, but with the way the wind is whipping up the rain, Andrew doubts it provides any type of protection from an onslaught. Neither this nor the murky atmosphere surrounding them deters the runner; their pace is quick and sure as they dash past the shop and up the road towards the town limits.

Andrew watches their retreating back as they become a blur of orange and rain before fading away.

The blond supposes the sight should be comical to witness, that he should laugh and relish in the absurdity of it all, but instead, all he feels is the briefest niggling of curiosity at the back of his mind.

~ * * * ~

The storm blows over overnight, but the rain and grey clouds stick around for another day. By Friday, the clear skies have returned accompanied by a blissful drop in the blistering summer heat. As the afternoon settles, Andrew leaves Aaron to tend the shop while he takes his break outside.

He pulls his cigarette pack and lighter of his pocket, sliding a cigarette between his lips and cupping the flame with his hand against the summer breeze that tickles his cheeks and ruffles his hair. He takes a drag, nicotine flooding his tongue and smoke settling in his lungs, before setting off down Main Street. Most of the shops have their doors and windows open, the sun’s rays glinting off their brightly coloured shutters and causing their stone and brick façades to glisten.

As Andrew makes it closer to the town’s centre, the laughter and squeals of children at the small park wafts on the breeze, the different faces of the townsfolk flickering his way as he passes. They always seem to linger a moment too long before skittering away, but he ignores them all. He pauses at the small bridge where the river cuts Foxton in half, flicking his burnt down cigarette bud into the small rapids rushing over the rocks below.

“Andrew!”

Andrew turns towards the cheerful voice to see Renee approaching him, smile small but bright as always and with Allison not far behind her. Renee has a reusable cloth grocery bag tucked into the crook of her left elbow and a coffee cup perched in her right hand, her pastel purple dress billowing in the breeze as she stops in front of the blond.

“How are you?”

“Alright,” Andrew says, turning to lean back against the railing along the bridge. “Yourself?”

“Lovely; thank you,” Renee says. “Marty got in some fresh cherries today. I think I might have to bake some into a pie. Cherry pie and coffee sounds delicious, doesn’t it? I can drop off a slice for you at the shop tomorrow if you’d like?”

“Sure.”

“Perfect. See you around, then?”

At Andrew’s nod, Renee offers a last smile before reaching a hand out behind her. Allison laces their fingers gingerly, and then the two disappear up the road towards their house. Andrew watches their retreating forms for only a moment before his eyes dart back towards the town centre, his feet carrying him before he can even think about it.

It’s not hard to find the new coffee shop, the grand-opening signs still blowing in the breeze, though obviously damaged from the previous storm. Like much of the rest of the town, Dancing Bean is small and quaint. The grey stone exterior is broken up by large front windows that allow waves of sunlight to crash inside and awash the walls in yellows and whites. Two metal tables sit either side of the door, though neither is currently occupied, and a sign hanging above declares the shop’s name accompanied by a drawing of a coffee bean with a crown.

Andrew pushes through the door and is greeted with the strong aroma of coffee mingling with the buttery sweet scent of pastries. The soft sounds of an instrumental version of an ABBA song plays through the speakers and just adds further insult to injury with the pun being made. Light fixtures hang from the ceiling, but most of the light inside comes from the sun streaming in from the windows. The brightness of it all makes the soft orange walls glow and the too white tables glare. The left wall of the shop is covered entirely with photos, a row of booths nestled underneath. While the right of the shop has a door leading to what Andrew assumes is the kitchen and a counter next to a glass case displaying a selection of pastries and treats. A chalkboard hangs above the counter, declaring the choices of drinks.

Below the chalkboard and behind the counter stands a barista. He has his head down, but as Andrew steps closer, his head snaps up. Andrew thinks he understands now what had Nicky so entranced and has his cousin so keen to make this coffeeshop a frequent stop.

The barista’s hair is a simple one-tone brown and doesn’t appeared to be styled, but the way it falls perfectly frames his face, and the darkness of it contrasts with his skin, bringing out the sharp cut of his cheekbones and pink tinge of his lips. A smattering of freckles stains the bridge of his nose before fading out to a dusting along the apples of his cheeks. And though his clothes are baggy, there’s no hiding the obvious athletic build below them.

Despite the barista’s attractiveness, Andrew’s stare can’t help but catch on the eyes. They’re a plain brown, but they’re entirely empty. The blankness of them is jarring and leaves the blond fighting off a sudden spark of intrigue.

“Hey,” the barista greets. “What can I get for you?”

“Coffee. Extra sugar.”

“Oh, we don’t—” the barista gestures towards the other end of the counter where a row of coloured sugar packets is neatly lined up besides straws and cardboard coffee cup sleeves.

“Just black then.”

“Okay,” the barista says, grabbing a cup and a sharpie. “Name?”

Andrew finds himself distracted watching the barista. There’s something about his mannerisms. The tense set to his shoulders. The way he angles his body towards the nearest exit. The way he shifts his weight like he’s not used to standing still. The way his muscles jump the tiniest amount, like a jolt of electricity just under the skin, as the seconds of silence tick on. Something underneath that polite smile, hidden beneath those emotionless brown irises.

“Did you want me to guess?” the barista finally speaks up, drawing Andrew’s eyes back to his face.

“Why do you need my name?” Andrew asks, pointedly looking around the empty shop. “Did I miss the other people’s orders you’re going to mix up with mine?”

The barista scoffs at the quip, but he doesn’t say anything in response, simply turns away and prepares Andrew’s order. It’s a simple order, only requires him to pour coffee from the pot and put a lid on. Once he finishes, he returns to the front counter.

“Black coffee for Asshole,” the barista calls out, tone dripping with sarcastic chipper.

Andrew takes the coffee from the barista’s outstretched hand and settles down at the other end of the counter. He pops off the lid of his coffee and begins tearing open sugar packets, dumping the contents into his drink. He hears a shocked sound from behind him after the fifth packet, and he adds two more before grabbing one of the small mixing straws. He turns and keeps eye contact with the barista as he gives his coffee a stir, snaps the lid back on, and takes a sip, the barista’s face a mix of horror and disgust the entire time. 

“Have a great day,” Andrew says, mimicking the barista’s tone from earlier. He taps to fingers against his temple in a salute and pushes his way out the shop door, feeling the weight of the barista’s stare against his back the whole way.

Perhaps Foxton could possess something of interest after all.


	2. Chapter 2

It takes ten minutes of driving along back roads off the main highway to reach Foxton, Massachusetts. Massive, looming trees line the winding road, their full summer foliage painting stark silhouettes against the night sky. It’s only as the town grows closer that the number of thick trunks starts to thin out. Neil can still remember making the journey down that windy road in Matt’s truck, counting the mile markers as they flashed in the headlights. 

Just outside the town limits, an old rusty sign welcomes you and proudly declares the population. The sight of the small number had Neil supressing a shudder, years of conditioning sparking icy fear in his veins. He can still remember the hiss of his mother’s voice as she informed him that small towns were to be avoided at all costs. There’s no way to blend in in a town where everyone knows everyone, and too many questions are always inevitable. The fact the FBI finally caught up with him in a small town in Arizona just really seems to drive the point home. 

And yet, the FBI seems to think small towns are perfect. “A place where no one will come looking for him” the agent had explained. And that’s how Neil finds himself unpacking clothes in a small two-bedroom apartment in an even smaller town. 

“We’ll find you a job in the morning,” Matt says from where he’s leaning casually against the doorframe. “Something simple but that will get you assimilated to the regular life.” 

“Yeah, because nothing says ‘average Joe’ like Witness Protection,” Neil mutters, stuffing all of his sweats into one of the dresser drawers. 

Neil slides the drawer shut and walks back towards his new bed. His duffel sits atop the mattress. Its deflated form hides the hole torn into the left side, but there’s no disguising the fraying strap. It’s the emptiness that’s most jarring, and Neil has to clench his fists against the tightness threatening to strangle his lungs and the sickness churning waves in his gut. The bag looks surprisingly small like this, and it almost doesn’t make sense how Neil’s whole life fit between the folds of fabric. The duffel continues to lay there unassuming, and yet it’s a stark reminder of Neil’s past, of everything this new life is supposed to keep in dark shadowy corners. 

Neil grabs the bag and tosses it into the closet and out of sight, closing the door with a securing snick. 

“Are you going to find a job here too?” Neil asks, distracting his spiralling thoughts with the man still hovering in the doorway. 

“My job is watching out for you, making sure nothing happens.” 

“Because there are so many dangers here in Foxton, right? Like that cat that was on the front stoop when we pulled up? It could eat me in my sleep, Matt.” 

Despite Neil’s words and the sarcasm dripping from them, Matt’s lips twitch into an easy smile as the taller man pushes away from the doorjamb. 

“Oh, I can already tell we’re going to be the best of friends, Neil.” 

Matt turns and heads toward the other bedroom, and Neil can’t decide if he’s glad or not that Matt misses his eye roll. 

“See you in the morning!” Matt calls out before closing his door behind him. 

Neil falls back on his bed, his eyes tracing the swirls of speckle on the ceiling. He can hear Matt puttering about his own room for a few minutes before an almost eerie silence settles around him. Not a single soul is awake in Foxton at this late hour, and they’re way too far from the highway for any sounds of traffic to reach them. It sets Neil on edge, and he pulls open his window despite the heat still lingering in the air long after the sun has vanished. The melody of the crickets’ song mixed with the leaves rustling in the breeze somewhat soothes his nerves.

~ * * * ~

It’s late morning by the time Neil and Matt make it out of the apartment and towards the town centre. Foxton is exactly what Neil expects in the light of day. Their apartment building is small, only three stories, but two identical buildings sit beside it. Each one has a looming brick façade, only broken up by flower boxes below every window, colour bursting from within them. The only thing differentiating each building is the brightly painted door. Matt and Neil’s building bears a red door, and the cat from the previous night is still perched outside it, licking its paw in disinterest as the two men pass.

The rest of their road is lined with quaint little houses, not a single car in sight. There’s the low hum of music pouring out from an open window somewhere and the chirp of birds overhead. There’s the whisper of something on the breeze, bristling Neil’s hair and tickling at his ears, but he ignores it. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and keeps pace with Matt down the sidewalk. 

It’s a short walk to Main Street, and they cut through a park to get there, past too green trimmed grass and children chasing after one another. As they walk through the town centre, Neil’s eyes dart back and forth, always taking notes of his surroundings. All of the shops seem to sport that cozy stone look, broken up by splashes of colour and stark whites. One boutique has a rack of bright dresses outside its door, and an ice cream parlour has a red and white awning over the door to shield its patrons enjoying their treats. The more Neil sees, the more his teeth grind at the sight. 

As if the way the town itself leaves Neil’s skin crawling isn’t enough, Matt keeps close to Neil’s back as they walk down Main Street. It leaves Neil suppressing every nerve ending that screams at him in alarm, swallowing down the need to look over his shoulder every minute because he knows it’s just Matt. But years of conditioning don’t vanish despite what the logical side of Neil’s brain may argue, and he spends most of the walk with clenched fists and downcast eyes. 

With each shop they pass, Matt pulls Neil inside to inquire about employment, and in every shop, they’re met with curious once-overs and polite no’s. It’s not surprising that their new and unfamiliar faces are met with wariness, but each pair of scrutinizing eyes leaves Neil’s shoulders hunching further up. After the sixth rejection, Neil is about to suggest they simply give up, on both the search and Foxton, when a ‘help wanted’ sign tucked into a window catches Matt’s eye. 

Matt practically drags Neil through the glass doors and into the shop. The shop must be new, the strong aroma of lemon masking bleach prominent as soon as they step foot inside. But there’s no mistaking what it is meant to be with chairs stacked atop tables around the space and a chalkboard already filled out in colourful chalk. The floor is still covered with a sheet, orange paint dried into the fabric, and a glass display case yet to be filled looks shiny and new on the counter. 

The soon to be café is empty save one person: a woman currently pinning various photo prints onto the wall. Her hair is bleach blonde with a rainbow of pastels dip dyed into the ends and contrasts with the modest skirt and blouse she wears. 

“Excuse me,” Matt says. The woman looks over her shoulder at his voice, and Matt points to the sign in the window when she does. “You’re hiring?” 

“Oh, you’ll want to speak to Dan about that,” the woman says. 

The woman climbs down from the chair she was perched upon and smooths out her skirt before offering both Matt and Neil a soft smile. 

“I’m Renee by the way,” she says, holding out her hand. 

“Matt,” Matt says, taking her proffered hand before gesturing with his thumb. “And that’s Neil.” 

“Nice to meet you both,” Renee says, walking back behind the counter and producing two Styrofoam cups that she fills with coffee. “I’ll go find Dan, but take these while you wait.” 

With one last smile, Renee disappears behind a swinging door. Once she’s gone, Matt happily grabs one of the cups, taking a sip and leaning a hip against the counter. 

“I don’t know about this, Matt,” Neil says, being sure to keep his voice pitched low. 

“Come on, Neil. You need a job. The FBI is happy to help out with funds when needed, but folding into regular society is quintessential to the program.” 

“Yeah, but—”

“Look, let’s just hear what this Dan guy has to say first.” 

“So, you’re looking for a job?” 

Both men’s heads snap in the direction of the voice that is distinctly not male. Standing in the doorway with Renee at her back is a woman. Her hair is cut short, but the way it’s styled brings out the sharp and flattering lines of her face. She’s wearing a loose tank with the word ‘boss’ emblazoned on it and a pair of shorts that accentuates her athletic build and watches them both with a poised eyebrow. 

Beside Neil, Matt makes a choked off sound in the back of his throat. His grip around his coffee loosens and slips, and Matt fumbles to try and catch the cup. He only ends up making matters worse, though, and splashes of coffee end up all over the taller man’s shirt, the counter, and the floor. Neil presses a hand to his mouth to stifle the chuckle trying to slip past his lips at the sight. 

“Smooth,” he whispers, earning a glare from Matt. 

“You’re the one applying...?” Dan asks, wary eyes dancing between the mess of coffee and Matt’s face. 

“Actually, um it’s—it’s Neil who needs the job,” Matt forces out. 

Neil doesn’t miss the relief on Dan’s face as she turns her attention towards him. It leaves him pressing his lips tightly together to supress a smile. 

“You ever work in a coffeeshop before?” she asks. 

“No, sorry,” Neil says. 

“But he’s a fast learner,” Matt adds in. “And he really needs a job.” 

“Well lucky for you, I’m desperate, so you’re hired,” Dan says, holding out her hand for Neil to shake. “Danielle Wilds by the way, but everyone calls me Dan. Neil, was it?” 

“Neil Josten, yeah.” 

“Well, welcome aboard, Neil Josten.” 

“Thanks.”

Neil is slipping his hand free from his new boss’s grip when something catches Dan’s eye over his shoulder. When he turns to look, another woman is pushing through the glass doors at the front. Her long blonde hair is tied back in a high ponytail, a stylish romper draped across her frame. She makes her way across the shop in easy strides despite her heels and settles bags of what smells like Chinese on the counter before pressing a kiss to Renee’s cheek.

“You already met Renee, but this is Allison,” Dan says. “And, Alli, this is my newest barista, Neil.” 

Allison looks up from where she’s digging containers out of the bags and raises an eyebrow, giving Neil a quick once over. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before,” she says. “Are you new in town?” 

“Uh yeah, Matt and I just moved here,” Neil says, watching the way Renee and Allison move around each other with a practiced ease. 

“I didn’t realise you both were new to Foxton,” Renee pipes up. “We’d be happy to show you around.” 

“Renee does know everyone,” Dan adds. 

Neil knows the admission is supposed to make him feel better, but all it does is make him wary of the couple, even with Renee’s gentle and friendly smile. The less engrained in Foxton he is, the better he’ll feel. The last thing he needs is the town digging its claws into his flesh; he’s never handled the feeling of being trapped very well. 

“I don’t know if—” 

“I’ll give you my number, and we can set up a time around your new work schedule,” Allison says, holding out her hand towards Neil. 

Neil glances at her outstretched hand before stuffing his hands in his pockets and meeting her eyes again. “I don’t have a phone yet.” 

Allison only blinks once before she comes striding out from behind the counter, a look of determination on her face. “We’re going to Ike’s; we’ll be back.” 

Before Neil can even utter a single word, Allison links their arms together and starts leading him towards the door. He stutters a few times, trying to grasp for a response, but instead turns panicked eyes towards Matt, pleading for help. 

“Maybe I should come along?” Matt pipes up. 

“Maybe you should stay and help Dan clean up the mess you obviously made,” Allison says, pausing in front of the door to shoot a pointed look at Matt’s shirt over her shoulder. “Don’t worry; I’ll bring Neil back in one piece.” 

Matt doesn’t have the chance to fumble for a retort before Allison has pulled Neil outside and further down Main Street. It turns out Ike’s isn’t far away, and Allison leads Neil right to the counter along the back wall once they step inside. 

“Marco, I need a phone. Latest model. Doesn’t need a lot of storage.” 

The man behind the counter—Marco, Neil presumes—disappears behind an opening in the wall. Neil watches him leave, and when he turns back to Allison, the blonde is watching him intently. 

“So, what’s your deal?” she asks. 

“My deal…?” 

“New to town… no phone… frumpy clothes…” 

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” 

Neil looks down at himself. His clothes are non-descript, meant to blend in, not stand out. The colour of his tee is a bit faded from excessive wear and rough wash, but other than that, he sees no qualms. 

“After Renee and I show you around, I’ll have to take you shopping. Maybe get you a haircut too,” Allison says, sliding a hand up into Neil’s hair. 

Neil ducks out of her reach and is about to quip back a response when Marco returns. Allison takes the phone in his hand with a smile and a ‘thanks’. She turns on her heel and starts for the exit, already tapping away at the phone. Neil glances between her and Marco, unsure what to do, before he grabs the bag of accessories from Marco’s other hand and jogs to catch up with Allison. 

She’s still fiddling with the phone as they make their way back up Main Street, but she pauses once they’re outside of the shop, finally turning back to Neil. 

“I put in my number, Renee’s number, and Dan’s number. I also downloaded all the quintessential apps, including a calendar one so you can keep track of your new work schedule.” 

“Um… thanks,” Neil says, taking the phone when Allison hands it back. She nods once, satisfied, then strides back inside the coffeeshop. 

Neil stands a bit dumfounded outside the door for a moment, counting breathes. He glances down at the phone in his hand and tries not to let it feel like a tethered weight.

~ * * * ~

Dan spends a whole day teaching Neil the ropes, and by the time the shop has its grand opening, he thinks he at least has an understanding with the latte machine. His first day on the job isn’t particularly eventful, but Neil starts to meet some of the patrons of the town like Mrs. Carter who works at the school and Marty who runs the grocery store.

On Neil’s third day, he meets Nicky. 

When Neil first meets Nicky, he isn’t sure how the taller man even made it to the coffeeshop with the way his eyes are half-lidded and his feet drag. He stumbles up to the counter and doesn’t even bother about the mop of dark hair that falls into his eyes as he pulls his body to a stop. 

“Two coffees,” he says. “One with cream and sugar. One with milk. As fast as you can please.” 

Nicky then proceeds to fold his arms on the counter and nestle his head against them. Neil blinks in confusion a few times before deciding to just fill the order. Once Neil sets down the two cups in front of the now sleeping man, Nicky reaches blindly for one and takes a long sip before raising his head. The coffee seems to have helped woken him up, and his eyes widen as he finally takes in Neil. Neil doesn’t miss the way Nicky’s eyes slowly slide down his form or the wide smile that creeps onto his face. 

“Why, hello there.” 

“Hi?” 

“Nicholas Hemmick, but you can call me Nicky.” 

He sticks out his hand to shake, and Neil takes it hesitantly. Nicky’s grip is firm and lingers a touch too long before he drops Neil’s hand. 

“Neil Josten.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around, Neil. New in town?” 

“Yeah, just moved here.” 

“Figured. I wouldn’t forget a pretty face like yours.” 

Nicky settles more comfortably against the counter, popping his weight against his hip and draping an arm across the surface, fingers a brush away from Neil’s arm. Neil’s eyes track down to the near contact before flittering back up to Nicky’s face. 

“I can show you the sights if you’d like. I make an excellent tour guide,” Nicky says, throwing in a wink. 

“Um…” 

“We can stop by Clyde’s—that’s the ice cream place. They make this home-made gelato that is practically orgasmic.” 

“Nicky, stop harassing my employees,” Dan says, appearing from the kitchen. 

“Dan! I didn’t know it was you who ran this fine establishment.” 

“I’m about to kick you out of this fine establishment if you don’t leave Neil alone.” 

“What? Neil and I were just getting to know each other is all. Right, Neil?” 

Despite Dan’s threatening words, Nicky’s easy-going smile never dissipates, and he turns that smile back on Neil. Neil’s eyes dance between Dan and Nicky, at a loss for words and a bit confused about the interaction he’s currently witnessing. 

“Don’t you have a bookshop to run?” Dan asks, finally filling the silence. 

“I left the twins in charge while I’m gone.” 

Dan raises an eyebrow at that, and after a moment, Nicky’s face morphs into a grimace. 

“Yeah, you’re right. I should probably head back.” 

Nicky hands over some money and grabs both coffees, walking backwards towards the door and flashing Neil another wide smile. 

“I look forward to seeing you around, Neil Josten.” 

And then like that, he disappears out into the bright, summer day. 

“Don’t worry about Nicky. He’s all bark and no bite. He’s been with the same guy since high school, and they’re almost as disgustingly cute as Allison and Renee.” 

Dan bumps her hip against Neil’s before returning back to the kitchen to finish up the next batch of strudels, leaving Neil reeling about yet another colourful character in this small Massachusetts town. 

But the most interesting customer of all comes on day five. 

On day six of his job, Neil is poking around the various apps Dan and Allison have smuggled onto his phone when the door to the shop opens. Neil looks up, and in a speak of the devil fashion, the short blond from the previous day saunters inside. Just as before, he wears a dark long sleeve shirt and a pair of dark wash skinny jeans that leave Neil sweating in sympathy even with the cool air pumping through the vents. Neil watches as the blond tucks a cigarette behind his ear before stuffing his hands in his pockets and making his way up to the counter. 

“Back again,” Neil says. “Will you be having the same: a cup of sugar with a dollop of coffee?” 

Neil catches the smallest of twitches at the corner of his lips, but the blond doesn’t say anything. His eyes drag down to the display case of pastries then sweep back up to meet Neil’s again. 

“And a chocolate danish.” 

“Because your blood sugar level isn’t high enough already?” 

“Haven’t you heard? The customer’s always right.” 

“I’ve heard that, and I’ve chosen to ignore it.” 

“No one likes a smart mouth, Neil.” 

The use of his name glues Neil’s tongue against the roof of his mouth, cutting the head off any potential response. He knows logically that this is just the small town’s doing. He knows word must have gotten around about ‘new to town Neil and Matt’, but it takes a moment for him to swallow past the paranoia and fear, to find his voice again. 

“So you know my name, and I don’t know yours? How is that fair?” Neil forces out. 

“Do you think life is fair?” 

The question shocks Neil, and he doesn’t have time to think before the honest answer is slipping off his tongue. “No.” 

The blond studies him then, silence ringing out around them as his eyes seem to pick Neil apart from the inside out. Neil can’t help but watch right back, taking note of the way the hazel of his eyes seem to glow under the light of the shop, of the way his jaw works with each swallow as the seconds tick by. 

Suddenly, the blond reaches out. Neil can’t help but flinch at the motion, but the blond doesn’t grab for him. He nabs one of the cups and the sharpie, scribbling something on the cup before setting both back down. Before Neil can ask, the blond turns and walks out, his footsteps seeming to echo in Neil’s ears even after he leaves. Neil stares after the door for a few confused blinks before he picks up the cup, staring at the ‘Andrew’ scrawled along the side in black ink. 

“Who was that?” Matt asks, suddenly appearing beside the counter. 

Neil looks back down at the cup in his hand, rereading the name there a few times before holding it out for Matt to see. 

“Andrew apparently,” he says. 

“Andrew, huh?” Matt says, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, his eyes alight with something Neil can’t pinpoint. 

“Why are you making that face?” 

“No reason.” 

“Why are you even here? Just chill back at the apartment instead of bothering me.” 

“I told you, my job is to make sure nothing happens to you, watch your back 24/7.” 

“Wow, the life of an FBI agent must be so hard. Sitting on your ass all day? Reading a magazine and drinking endless lattes? So difficult.” 

“It truly is gruelling. You missed your calling, Neil. Now, how about another latte?” 

Neil rolls his eyes and lets out a sigh, but dutifully grabs another mug and settles at the latte machine, ignoring the winning smile Matt sends his way as he returns to his seat. He’s about halfway done when he hears the sound of the door and footsteps making their way up to the counter. 

“I’ll be with you in a second,” Neil calls over his shoulder, finishing up Matt’s latte. 

“That’s fine.” 

The voice makes Neil freeze, the coffee cup in his hand almost slipping between his laxed fingers. Neil isn’t sure how his heart is able to beat double time when his lungs have stopped pulling in oxygen, but his body betrays him. He tries to take a stuttering breath, but it feels like icicles tearing through his chest. Slowly, Neil sets down Matt’s latte and turns around, praying to any being up there that he’s imagining things. 

But when Neil turns around, there stands no other than Kevin Day. 

Despite it having been over eight years since Neil saw him in person and two since Neil saw him in the news, Kevin hasn’t changed. His hair is still a mop of dark strands and the tattooed ‘2’ is still emblazoned on his cheek. The very sight of it feels like a punch to Neil’s gut. The silence of the latte machine cutting off must draw Kevin’s attention because the taller man pockets his phone and looks up. Neil waits with bated breath to see recognition dance across Kevin’s face, every nerve ending singing like a sparkplug. He wonders what kind of reaction he should expect. Will Kevin lash out? Maybe he’s still in contact with the Moriyama’s? That thought sends Neil’s heart lodging into his throat, and his eyes instinctively track down to where Kevin’s phone disappeared. 

Neil’s stomach is a churning mess of knots, his mind already plotting an escape route back through the kitchen and out the back, his legs already itching to run. And yet, when his and Kevin’s eyes meet, Kevin’s face remains blank and unimpressed. 

“Can I get a large black coffee to go?” 

It takes a moment, but Neil swallows hard and somehow manages a nod. He grabs one of the cups and starts preparing the order. They don’t speak as Neil rings it up or as Kevin hands over the correct amount. Neil is just glad his hand doesn’t shake too much. 

Once his drink is paid for and in hand, Kevin exits the shop without a backwards glance. Neil counts to ten in his head to make sure Kevin really is gone before practically jumping over the counter to get to the booth Matt has tucked himself into. 

“Matt.” 

“Hey! Wait. Where’s my latte?” 

“That’s not important. Listen—”

“It’s important to me.” 

“Matt,” Neil hisses, sliding into the other side of the booth. “Seriously. Listen. Kevin Day is here.” 

It takes a few blinks of confusion before Neil’s words to seem fully register and Matt is able to find his voice again. 

“I’m sorry. What?” 

Neil glances over his shoulder, and despite the emptiness of the coffeeshop, he still leans across the table between them and pitches his voice lower. 

“Kevin. Day. Here.” 

“Neil, that’s impossible. Kevin Day is dead.” 

“Well, apparently not because I just served him coffee.” 

“Maybe it was a doppelganger?” 

“Seriously?” 

“You never know these days.” 

“Yeah, it was his doppelganger, and he just loved Kevin so much that he too decided to get a ‘2’ tattooed on his face.” 

“Alright, that sarcasm was just unnecessary.” 

“Matt, you’re missing the point.” 

Matt lets out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He runs his hand through his hair before finally meeting Neil’s eyes again. 

“I’m going to have to tell Wymack,” he finally says. 

“What? No, you can’t.” 

“Neil, I don’t think you understand. Kevin Day is alive, and he’s here.” 

“Listen, if the FBI comes in and sweeps up Kevin, all it’s going to do is raise red flags. My father’s people will come sniffing and then they’ll find me.” 

“Neil—”

“Clearly the small-town thing works,” Neil says, his voice sounding hysterical even to his own ears. “I mean how long has Kevin been hiding out here with everyone thinking he’s dead? Maybe we should just leave it.” 

Matt opens his mouth, more arguments clearly on the tip of his tongue, before he snaps it shut. He lets out another sigh and rubs a hand over his eyes then meets Neil’s gaze head-on. 

“Fine, but I’m keeping an extra watchful eye from now on, and you need to be extra careful.” 

“Okay, I will.” 

“So,” Matt says, finally settling back into his seat. “What happened to: I hate small towns?” 

“Yeah, well…” 

Neil doesn’t offer anything else. He sinks back into the cushion of the seat and watches the colours of the shop shift as clouds slide across the sun outside.

**Author's Note:**

> I have the majority of this story planned/outlined, so I am hoping to post updates either weekly or every other week. Fingers crossed that writer's block doesn't strangle my brain! 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always much appreciated! 
> 
> Finally, [come say hi](http://c-e-d-dreamer.tumblr.com/) and a rebloggable link to this fic can be found [here](http://c-e-d-dreamer.tumblr.com/post/161679486441/truth-be-told-main-pairing-neil-josten-andrew) :)


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